One less jumper this christmas
by GingerPygmy99
Summary: "You don't really understand it, grief. It creeps up on you, when you least expect it". Ron deals with the first Christmas without Fred, paying a visit to his grave and seeing something he didn't expect. A bit angsty and sad. Ron centric but small mentions of Romione. Happy holidays! GP99 x


Hello readers. I know its been a while since I last posted. I am continuing with Sorry but I'm struggling a bit at the moment. This fic has got me back into writing for a while whilst I've got the holidays off, so lets see what happens eh? Happy Holidays!

One less jumper this Christmas

You don't really understand it, grief. It creeps up on you, when you least expect it. Sort of like a spot on a bad day, you can't get rid of it as much as you want to, and in the worst cases some sort of scarring is left over. I suppose everyone's got their scars. Harry's got his fair share, and Hermione hers. I like to think I keep mine hidden quite well, buried deep in the places I don't allow people to see. Way past the surface, past the smile I wear everyday, and the laugh I exaggerate in front of George. Truth is, I can kiss Hermione as many times as I like, but as soon as the hormones die down and the rational part of me takes over, I have to sit down and remember that this Christmas, Freddie isn't coming home.

It's almost like she can read my mind, Hermione. Like she can sense when I'm feeling down. I can feel her watching me out of the corners of her eyes, subconsciously keeping tabs on me at all times. I must have had the pain written across my face as we walked into the living room that afternoon on Christmas day. Everyone was wearing their jumpers, Harry blue, Hermione in green, me in maroon as usual. But one person wasn't, one person was missing out this year. I found myself unable to open my mouth, in fear of the distress escaping me if I did.

I felt Hermione squeeze my arm and she raised her eyebrows at me. 'Are you okay?', she was asking me. I didn't need words with her half the time, neither of us needed to say anything. Just knowing she was there, giving me her support was enough. But I don't think enough hugs and kisses in the world could have prepared me for today. October was hard enough. No pranks, no spiders in my bed or zombies in the closet, just silence. Was the first Halloween George stayed in his room, refusing to socialize. But Christmas, it didn't feel right without firecrackers, or the gnome on top of the tree. A plain old star on the top? What sort of Weasley Christmas was this?

"I'll be back in a while" I mumbled to Hermione. Her eyes flickered over my face, drinking in my expression and she nodded, understanding. She kissed me on the cheek and I gave Mum a smile as I left the room, grabbing my coat and wellies from the front porch.

The cold brisk air hit me and I zipped my coat up as far as it would go. Something wet touched my nose and I almost smiled as I saw snowflakes making their way down to earth. I sucked in a breath and started to make my way east, past the pumpkin patch and the old tree where we used to climb summers ago, when innocence and happiness still surrounded us. I noticed the shed where Fred's broom still stood, untouched as no-one had yet moved it. A part of me wished no-one ever would. I climbed over a small stone wall and stopped dead in my tracks.

There was something, something on the grave. Fred's grave. Something red. I found myself opening and closing my throat, as though I wanted to say something but no words escaped me. Only tears, in place of what I wanted to say. I found myself clutching the bright red jumper, my hands trembling in the cold, caressing the gold 'F' emblazoned on the front. How were we still going? After all this pain and torment? My brother was in the ground, cold and lifeless, and we were still drinking egg nog and singing carols. It wasn't right!

Tsunami wave's of grief hit me, and I could physically feel myself breaking. My throat felt like it was going to split open, my cheeks numb from the cold, and my knees aching from where I was kneeling in the damp snow. When ever I come here, to talk to Fred, I find myself having too much to say, telling him about Hermione and I, about the shop, how thing are going but today, there were no words. The headstone glistened in the light of the moon, and sparkled as snowflakes coated its marble surface. I coughed again, catching my breath and pointed my wand at the carefully knitted jumper, covering it in a layer of warmth and protection. Mum's hard work wasn't going to become a soggy mess.

I wiped away the tears, feeling foolish. The best I could wish for was that where ever Fred was, he would know that we were missing him, and that he knew that things weren't the same without him. There was a gap in this family now. I conjured up a wreath, something Hermione had taught me to do. I wiped my hands on my jeans and rubbed my knees where the snow had soaked through. I took one deep breath, gathered the smile that I needed to wear in front of my family, and started to walk home.

It seemed everyone got their Christmas jumper after all.

...

Thanks for reading and don't hesitate to leave me a review.

GP99

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